The Ties That Bind
by figliedellatempesta
Summary: Ophelia is Queen of Albion, but she is finding it more difficult than anticipated, not to mention regretting sending her brother to the dungeons. There is only one person who can help her now...


Ophelia tapped her foot nervously against the wooden floor of the throne room. She was dressed in her new, regal attire; a far cry from the practical, casual dresses she had been clad in only a few weeks previously, her hair unfamiliarly combed and styled. Everything had changed so quickly. And here she was, no longer a naïve young princess, no longer a ragged escapee from Bowerstone castle, but the Queen of Albion, rightfully sitting on the throne that only last month had been her brother's.

Yes, her brother had been the King of Albion before her, and a cruel and unjust ruler in her eyes and those of the people, but she still wasn't comfortable with the position of power she now held over him. She had expected protests from him: he wasn't to blame, there were reasons for his behaviour, he should be allowed to live. But there had been none. He had remained silent as she had listened to Paige and Ben and Kaylynn's vitriol: he should be executed as he had executed Major Swift and others, he was nothing more than a tyrant and a criminal who deserved nothing better than what he had given to others – death. Perhaps, but tyrant or otherwise he was still her brother and there was still something in his eyes that told her that Paige and the others' judgement of him wasn't the full story.

She had seen Swift executed, it was true. She could have sent Logan to the same fate: stood alone in the dark and rain, back to the wall, unsure of how to stand, where to look as he was faced by a line of soldiers pointing their rifles at him. The command to fire, the sound of several guns firing in union, the muffled gasp of pain as he fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. Perhaps that was what he deserved, but Ophelia did not have the heart to send anyone to such an end.

Nonetheless, she hadn't felt able to leave him unpunished. No matter how it pained her, she had had to send him to the dungeons – a judgement which he had accepted without protest, allowing himself to be manhandled down to the deep, dark stone chambers below the castle – damp, dank walls, cold stone floors and icy chains biting into his skin. But the look he had had in his eyes as she had sent him down there had troubled her ever since, and she questioned whether or not she could live with herself, having sent her own sibling to rot alone in the utter humiliation to which she had condemned him.

It bothered her, but she had more pressing concerns. She was supposed to be preparing for the coming darkness, for the attack which the blind seer had foretold and which she was responsible for protecting her people from. She was supposed to be preparing, but how could she when she had a constant stream of demands from a ceaseless supply of people. Some of these people should have understood better what she was up against, not expected so much of her in these first few weeks, but that wasn't the case. And now she had Paige standing in front of her demanding that she open some school or another. It wasn't that Ophelia didn't care, it was that these people simply did not understand what was going to happen. Here they were demanding tax cuts and policy changes and schools and factories and brothels and god knows what else, and she had to sit and listen and make decisions on the pettiest of issues when she should have been spending her time raising money, raising an army, making plans. But how could she make plans when she barely knew herself what to do. She barely knew the first thing about the army which was threatening to destroy her Kingdom, and she hardly knew anything about how to manage armies and battles. In fact, the whole process of running the Kingdom was already far harder than she had imagined. She had managed to gather together a few rebels to depose a corrupt king, but that was nothing compared to the task she now had ahead of her.

"You promised, your Highness," Paige said, her eyes flaming with a passion that Ophelia didn't even really understand. "If you don't deliver your promises you'll be no better than your brother."

Reaver stood on the other side of the room, a sardonic glint in his eye. Almost as if he knew that all these little discussions about policy were a total waste of time and a distraction from the real problems they all faced. Dressed in his usual totally unnecessary finery and his ridiculous top hat, smirking as he put forward his case for yet more depraved and immoral schemes. How she hated and despised Reaver. And yet she was growing to hate Paige a little more as every day went by. So often her moralising was utterly misguided, and still she demanded more and more money-draining do-gooding.

"You'll be no better than your brother." Paige's words echoed in her ears and anger burned in the pit of her stomach.

"How dare you!" Ophelia blazed, her sudden burst of anger surprising her as much as it surprised the people gathered in the throne room. "You have no idea what is really going on here do you? All you care about is getting more money for one thing or another. I'm sick of this!"

She barged out of the room angrily, shoving the door open and letting it bang shut behind her, all eyes following her in nervous disbelief. No one said anything, at least not while she was in earshot. She guessed that they were all too surprised by her outburst to react straight away. She was surprised by it as well, but her frustration with those around her had been growing lately anyway. Paige was getting snippy about one or two promises she hadn't yet fulfilled, and was constantly trying to make her feel guilty about decisions she had made that were a little too much like the kinds of decisions her brother had taken during his rule.

Tears of anger and frustration pricking the corners of her eyes, she walked down the corridor, trying to calm down. It wasn't until her mind cleared a little bit that she realised in which direction she was walking. She was approaching the staircase that lead down from the main body of the castle down to the dungeons. She hadn't given much thought to this part of the castle since she had become queen, nor before then as a young princess, but now she found her feet taking her down the dingy stone steps towards the place she had tried until now to block from her mind.

Her shoes tapped conspicuously on the stone floor as she walked to the end of the corridor. Two guards stood outside the cell she was looking for.

"Your Majesty," they greeted her.

"I wish to speak to my brother," she said, "in private." She waved her hand to dismiss them. "You may go."

Glancing at her and at each other uncertainly, the guards followed her orders and left. She pushed open the door and entered the cell.

It was a medium-sized room, stone walls and floor with no windows. It was cold, damp and barely lit. Chained to the wall was Logan, albeit thinner and more haggard, with dark shadows under his eyes and unrecognisable stubble. He was dressed in his usual purple trousers and a loose, dirty, torn white shirt – stained in places with blood. Ophelia didn't want to think about the blood. She hadn't ordered him to be tortured – she wouldn't consider such a thing – but it had been reasonably common practice under Logan's rule and there was no reason for him to have been an exception. She didn't like to think that she had sent him to suffer in this way, but surely it was no worse than to have sent him to the firing squad which had been the alternative.

He looked up at her with surprise behind the exhaustion and disorientation. "Ophelia," he said, "what are you doing here?" His voice was still the same. The same soft yet deep drawl that had ordered executions, wars and austerity, albeit it with a hint of pain underlying it. The pride and even arrogance hadn't entirely left it either.

"Logan." The word burst from her lips before she had time to suppress it. The concern in her voice was evident and she kicked herself for showing weakness to him like that. She had, after all, deposed him from the throne and instated herself as queen, she might as well behave like one. "Are you alright?" she asked.

Something between a smile and a grimace crossed his lips. "Do I look alright?" he asked, sardonically.

Ophelia bit her lip anxiously for a moment, then scowled. "If you're going to be sarcastic then I'll just leave you down here to rot like you deserve!"

"Hm. Does that imply that you had something else in mind? I rather thought that you had forgotten me down here being slowly eaten by rats and starvation."

It was true, the cells were full of rats. Damp, cold and filthy, they were somewhere Ophelia would only wish to send the very vilest of criminals. Did her brother really deserve that?

He grimaced a little and shifted against the wall, a shadow of pain darkening his face for a moment. Ophelia noticed how the chains had rubbed his wrists and ankles raw and blistered, how there were sores on his body from the damp and the constant pressure of the stone.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have left you down here," she whispered, more to herself than to Logan.

Logan sighed. "My dear sister, you have shown me the error of my ways. I thought that by imposing order on the people I was saving Albion, but perhaps I was wrong. You are the ruler I never could be and I don't begrudge it to you. After what I did to Swift and god knows how many others I deserve to be down here."

Ophelia sighed. "Yes, that's true. Executing Swift and the other protesters was unforgivable. I can't forgive you for that, Logan. But I am beginning to understand some of the other things you did. It's harder than I thought. So much harder…"

Logan gave a short laugh. "Yes, it's much harder than you could have anticipated. Regretting storming in and de-throning me now are you? I don't envy you your position. All that time clinging on to my throne and now I wouldn't take it back for anything. Not that I'm enjoying it down here, mind you, but it's a mercy not to have that pressure on me anymore."

Ophelia shifted from her crouching position and sat on the floor, no longer caring that the icy damp soaked through her expensive dress. "I don't know how I can carry on," she said. "They all expect so much from me and I don't think I can deliver it."

Logan shrugged a little. "Don't try and give them everything they want. They all love you Ophelia, you're the queen Albion deserves. Don't beat yourself up about not being perfect."

"But the darkness," she whispered. "You knew, didn't you. You knew what was coming all along. Why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have believed me?" he said darkly. "Would anyone have believed me? I hear you had your own encounter with that place…" he grimaced again for a second. "No one can imagine that horror unless they have seen it for themselves with their own eyes. No one can know what is coming, Ophelia. That is a burden I had to bear for years, and it is one that you will have to bear now."

"Darkness incarnate," she mused aloud, before turning to face her brother, her eyes filled with fear. "Logan I can't fight this. It's too much for me to fight alone. You have to help me. You are the only other person I can trust with this, the only other person who knows, save Walter and Teresa. No one else understands – Paige hasn't got a clue! They can't help me, none of them can."

Logan sighed and leaned back against the wall. "It's too late for me Ophelia. I'm stuck down here, in case you haven't noticed. Besides, even if you let me out, no one will listen to me anymore. I had my chance and I blew it. There's nothing I can do now."

"I'll listen to you," she said softly. "I can't do this alone, I need you by my side. You know the army better than I do, you know Albion better than I do. You're the only other person who understands the danger we are all in. I need your knowledge and experience to know how to prepare for the fight."

"I don't know if I can fight anymore. Look at me, I'm rotting alive down here." He pulled up the corner of his shirt; a deep slash ran across the right side of his abdomen, infected and festering.

Ophelia's eyes widened in shock. "I didn't ask for this!" she gasped. "I didn't want this."

"It doesn't matter now. I don't blame you for what you did. If I had been in your position I would have had me executed." He laughed bitterly.

Ophelia got to her feet. "I'm not leaving you down here anymore. This is wrong, I shouldn't have done this."

She marched to the door and called for the guards. "Guards! I command you to let Logan out of here." The pair looked at each other uncertainly. "I'm the Queen of Albion! You will do as I command, and I command that you release my brother."

"Very good, your highness." One guard stepped forward and unlocked the chains that restrained the former king.

"Hmm." Logan looked at his wrists in disbelief for a moment, then attempted to get to his feet. He managed it, albeit shakily, but his face soon clouded over with pain and he doubled up, gasping and clutching the wall for support. "Not going to be much help to you like this, I'm afraid," he said wryly, through gritted teeth.

"You. Call a healer immediately. In fact, take him up to his room and have a healer come to him immediately."

"Your majesty."

A little later Ophelia sat beside Logan's bed as he lay there, pale and weak but for the first time in weeks clean and comfortable, having had his wounds cleaned and bandaged.

"I know I can't take back everything I've done," she began, "and you can't take back everything you have done either. Life doesn't work out the way you think it is going to. But I hope that from now on the two of us can work together rather than against each other. We're going to have to if we want to survive."

"I presume I'm going to have to swallow some of my pride… not that I can say I have much of my dignity left after what has happened in the last month or so. But perhaps I can regain a little of your trust and a little of the respect of the people by doing whatever I can to help save Albion. I don't know how much help I can be, but I will stand alongside you if you will have me."

"We're both going to have to swallow our pride, Logan. If anything, we are too alike – both too stubborn and too proud to ask each other for help. But we are brother and sister in the end. I presume Paige won't be happy about this, but I don't care. We'll do this together."

"How very heroic," Logan muttered sarcastically. "I suppose I'm going to have to take your orders now, then."

"Yes, you have to take my orders. As you say, you had your chance and you blew it."

"Very well. As you say, Queen Ophelia."

"Yeah well don't you forget that I'm doing you a favour. One wrong move and I can have you thrown back into the dungeon."

"Mm," Logan muttered.

"Fine, I'll leave you to get some rest. But as soon as you've recovered you're going to help me make everything right."

"Yes Ophelia…"

"Get some sleep. I'll be back tomorrow to see you if I can." Ophelia took one last look back before she left the room and shut the door behind her. Now she just had to deal with Paige and the others. Being a queen certainly wasn't easy.

* * *

><p>Quite how that ended up so sappy and familial I don't know. Shoot me. Don't be surprised if I upload more Logan-fics which may be more M-rated than this.<p> 


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